Don't Go Slow
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'If she expected him to hold even an ounce of concentration after she walked out of the bathroom dressed head to toe in black, she's sadly mistaken.' Episode insert for 7x07.


_"Good girls always wear black."_

_-Stana Katic_

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><p>If she expected him to hold even an ounce of concentration after she walked out of the bathroom dressed head to toe in black, she's sadly mistaken. He had managed to interview the bartender with her, managed to keep his attention on the case for that near hour spent learning about hidden gold and the potential of a treasure hunt, and <em>of course<em> he wants to go after the gold, but now they're back in their too small room and she's lounging on that too small bed and he wants her more than any kind of hidden treasure.

This is supposed to be their honeymoon after all.

Sort of.

Beckett is scrolling determinedly through her tablet, researching their newest lead from the bartender with that ridiculous mustache, and Castle takes a seat near her hip, innocently splays one of his hands on the calf muscle hidden beneath the leather of the knee high boots that make her legs seem even longer.

Her eyes cut to him, one of her eyebrows curving in question.

"Castle," she warns. "Focus."

He slides his hand higher, up to the inside of her thigh. "I am."

"On the case," she corrects with a smirk, catching his hand and squeezing hard enough to elicit a wince.

Mean, his wife is mean.

"Perhaps you should have worn something a little less… distracting, if you wanted me thinking about the case," he muses, using his unrestrained hand to pluck the iPad from her fingers.

She glares as he places the device on the nightstand, but she can't hide the darkness of her eyes, steadily growing to match the rest of her attire.

"Besides, it's our honeymoon, can't we spare just a few minutes acting like proper newlyweds?"

The spark his words ignite consumes her entire face, the case momentarily pushed from her mind, drowned by the look of pure heat curling at her mouth and dilating her pupils.

"Okay," she decides, evading his touch and sliding from the mattress instead. The click of her boots on the hardwood floor echoes through the room as she spends a moment pacing before him, allowing him another good, long look at her body covered in so much tight, tantalizing darkness, and he can't help rising from the bed, following after her.

But then she's placing a hand to his chest, shoving hard enough to have his back against the nearest wall. "But you should know, I'm in charge."

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><p>His eyes had refused to leave her from the moment she stepped out of the bathroom, remaining wide and unhinged as they continued to rove from the toe of the leather boots, to the top of her hat. It made her feel powerful, like she was playing into one of his hottest fantasies, and when she has him up against the wall, toying with the buckle of his belt and taking note of the awed but sinfully dark flints of his eyes watching her, she <em>knows <em>she's making it come true.

Castle tries to reach for the corset molded around her midsection, makes a quick attempt to unfasten the first strip of the laces at her back, but she slaps his hand away and darts forward to nip the lobe of his ear, hard enough to have him hissing against her cheek.

"No touching yet," she reprimands, humming in approval when his hands drop down into fists over the backs of her thighs. "Good boy."

She steps back enough to get her hands between them, making a show of sliding her fingers around to her back to unlace the fastenings of the corset, and watches with satisfaction as his eyes become riveted to the slow work of her loosening garment, as if he doesn't know exactly what lies beneath the cinched material. He waits with visibly diminishing control while she works her way down her spine, until finally the fitted black material slips from her sides, hitting the floor with a quiet slap.

She may be in charge, but Castle doesn't ask for permission to touch her again, drawing her against him with the hands clutching her hips, and she moans, low and needy, when he hauls her close, automatically fitting his thigh between hers.

"Yes, yes," she pants, clawing at his back and pressing in close, already so pathetically desperate for him.

She had intended to take this slow, to get him onto that squeaky little bed and make him beg for it, but his mouth so hot and wet at her neck, right beneath her jaw, causes her original intentions to fall apart, the hard muscle of his thigh so perfect against the ache between her legs, she can't help reveling in the sparks of friction as she rocks against him. They've been in a bit of a haze since the wedding, unable to keep their hands to themselves for very long, and after last night's failed attempt by the campfire, she's too impatient to play the role of Wild West dominatrix anymore.

Castle doesn't seem to mind. And besides, there will be another chance for western role play; it's not like she isn't taking this outfit home.

They work together to rid each other of buttons. His vest lands next to her corset, her dress shirt flows open, and she forces his from his shoulders, needing the heat of his naked skin beneath her palms.

She gasps when he spins her, lifting her from her feet without warning and nearly causing her to lose her hat as her head drops back against the stained wood of the wall, her body edging towards sensory overload at the sudden drive of his hips and the graze of his bare chest against the rough lace of her bra.

"Castle, bed," she groans, rolling her body into the hot press of him even as she says it, winding her fingers in his hair while his mouth travels down her throat to the exposed skin of her chest, scraping at the knot of her scar with his teeth, soothing it with his tongue.

"You've been letting it show," he husks, his breath scorching the swell of her breast, sending a shiver down her arching spine.

She knows he noticed, knows he's been especially fond of her leaving an extra button undone like she once did before, before her flesh was marred by a bullet wound. It isn't that she's ashamed, but in the city, she's taken to keeping the scar hidden outside of their home. Maybe it's the change in scenery, maybe it's the appeal of western attire, but here, allowing the damaged skin to show didn't feel so intimidating, didn't make her feel like a target.

The fingers in his hair curl and tug and she claims his lips, slicking her tongue inside his mouth, swallowing the sinful sound of his groan and using the distraction to break the hold on her thighs. She finds her footing even though her legs shake and attempts to push him towards the bed.

They crash into the table instead, the tin cups and coffee pot clattering to the floor, the last of their morning brew spilling onto her boots and she growls, shoves him hard until he finally lands on the mattress with a loud creak. She wastes no time crawling atop him, straddling his hips and grinding down onto the bulge beneath his pants.

"Kate," he chokes, scrambling for the button of her jeans. His fingers fumble and she swats them away, undoes the button and zipper on her own, and then she goes for his.

He kicks off the cowboy boots and she disposes of his socks when she drags his pants past his ankles, silk boxers trailing along after them.

"Easy, cowboy," she teases, coiling her fingers around his length, relishing in the hard throb of him against her palm as she strokes him slowly, slowly enough to have him making that growling noise in the back of his throat.

He gasps when she takes him in her mouth, closing her lips around his tip and swirling her tongue before taking him deeper.

"Oh, Kate, no, no - won't last if you do that," he croaks and she realizes she can't see him when she attempts to meet his gaze, her hat a slim black barrier between the two of them, and as much as she loves having him like this, loves the sensation of him in her mouth and the power of having him coming undone at her mercy, she wants to see him. And she's not taking the hat off.

She allows her tongue one last sweep over the length of him, hollowing her cheeks before she releases him with a deliberate pop of her lips, and sits back on her knees to take in a breath at the view. His bare chest is heaving, sweat glistening along the ridges of his collarbones and the muscles of his abdomen, and they've done this so many times, but she can't seem to shake the admiration that swirls and bubbles with the fierce arousal in her stomach from merely looking at him. She doesn't think she wants to.

Kate crawls up the length of his body like a predator, sultry and slow, until his control is snapping and Castle is sitting up in the bed, jerking her into his lap.

"Why do you still have all of your clothes on?" he grates out, his fingers steady this time as they close around the waistband of her pants and tug hard enough to slide them past her hips. She has to bend backwards to unzip the boots, kick them from her feet to send the pants flying with them, but she doesn't rid herself of the black lace thong still clinging to her skin and he doesn't try to take it off.

Castle's hands slide beneath the back of her opened shirt, finally easing the material from her shoulders before spanning the fevered skin of her lower back with his broad palms. She arches under his touch as she positions herself above him and takes him in her hand for the second time. She holds her underwear to the side and teases his tip through the soaked slit of her folds, biting her lip to hold back the curse of his name as she finally sinks down onto him.

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><p>Oh, his wife is so hot. Scorching, searing, and breathtakingly hot as she rises off of him and glides back down, making those desperate little mewling noises in the back of her throat, all while in black lace and a cowboy hat.<p>

The bed frame squeaks and groans and Kate's hands fist above his head, fingers curling in a white knuckled grip around the railing of the metal headboard, and he uses the angle to surge upwards, nudging her bra out of the way with his nose to tease the tip of a breast with his mouth.

The whine that rips its way out of her throat is feral, has his hips bucking under hers with untamed desire, and one of her hands abandons the bedpost to clutch at him instead, nails piercing his scalp as she picks up the dancing rhythm of her hips, riding him faster, harder, the waves of pleasure growing stronger with every rise and fall of her body into his. He whispers nonsense into her chest, maps his hand over every uncovered stretch of skin because he knows his touch drives her crazy when they're in bed like this, and tries not to snap the lace string of her thong he's currently holding out of the way.

"Fuck, so good," she confesses on a whimper, twisting her hips in a move that always sends black spots flickering through his vision. "Castle, Castle-"

The twin sized bed begins to quiver, shaking with every jarring slam of their hips, and he claws his fingers into the taut muscle of her ass, curls his other hand around the sharp jut of her hipbone and pulls her down _hard_. Her spine snaps forward, her body arching violently against his, clenching around him as her head falls back and her fingers fall from the railing of the bed to his shoulders, holding on through the spread of flames that consume them both.

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><p>She falls into him when he slumps against the pillows, loosely cradling her to the slick wall of his chest while he pants through the final traces of his orgasm.<p>

"You wear me out, Mrs. Castle," he sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and she breathes out a chuckle as she notices her hat tossed on the wooden floor beside the bed. She isn't sure how cowboys keep their infamous hats in place when hers couldn't survive the rough ride of her honeymoon.

"This was your idea, Mr. Beckett," she remarks, trailing her fingers over the cage of his ribs, grinning when his amused huff of laughter flutters through her hair.

"Best idea I've had since we got here," he murmurs and she lifts her chin, allows her eyes to slide shut at the welcome touch of his lips to hers.

"Mm, definitely made this honeymoon more authentic," she admits against the soft flesh of his mouth before regretfully abandoning his lips and reaching past him for her discarded iPad on the nightstand. "But, until we manage to make it to our real honeymoon, we've got a murder to solve, babe."


End file.
